


An Unconventional Summoning

by ZuviosGemini



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Wingfic, emetophobia warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZuviosGemini/pseuds/ZuviosGemini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the last month, Dean has been throwing up at night and Sam is getting worried. He's more than certain it has to do with Castiel being gone, but how do you approach a man who can't even admit his feelings to himself? And how will said-man take it if Castiel happens to come back? Sam has a plan, but Dean won't like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unconventional Summoning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before I got to season 4, so basically all I can tell you is that Castiel died and this is how he comes back.
> 
> Soundtrack: Angel with a Shotgun by The Cab; Go the Distance as arranged and performed by Sebastian Wolff (GermanSeabass on YouTube. LOOK HIM UP!!); Savin’ Me by Nickelback

Sam woke slowly to the sounds of someone retching. With a groan, he glanced at the clock. 3:46 am. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, the younger Winchester rubbed his face with a sigh. As much as he was used to this nightly routine, it still bothered him badly.

When Sam had first been woken up by the sounds of Dean vomiting, he had panicked, knowing that if his brother was sick, they’d have serious problems down the road with the hunt they were currently on, but when Dean had emerged from the bathroom, he looked more irritated than anything. He had barked at Sam to go back to bed, and the next morning he was fine.

Sam had assumed that it was just something Dean had eaten.

Until it happened the next night.

And the night after.

And every consecutive night after that for the entire month.

Sam was exhausted and so was Dean. They were having a hard time doing their job right, and Sam was just about at the end of his rope.

Pushing himself off of the bed, he walked over to the bathroom door, where Dean was still emptying his stomach. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam knocked on the door.

“Dean?” He said, knowing full well that his brother wasn’t going to answer at the moment. There was a pause and then more noises. Sam sighed, bracing himself and pushing the door open. Dean was clinging to the toilet for dear life, heaving for all he was worth.

“Dean, man, this has gotta stop.” Sam said, his voice a mix of exasperation and concern as he sat down on the edge of the bathtub. Dean was gasping, his eyes wide, sweat pouring down his face and bare back, disappearing into his sleeping pants. He swallowed hard a few times before burping, more stomach acid splashing into the toilet.

Sam grimaced but said nothing. He was seriously worried about Dean. He didn’t know how to help him, and even if he did, he knew Dean would tell him to fuck off and leave him alone.

Dean coughed and spit into the toilet, still breathing hard. Sam grabbed some toilet paper and gingerly wiped Dean’s mouth, grateful when Dean didn’t lash out at him. He threw the dirty paper into the toilet and flushed it, shaking his head as Dean leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes, relishing the cool wall on his back.

“You can’t keep doing this, man.” Sam said softly, watching Dean carefully. Dean’s eyes opened slowly, settling on his face. They were glossy and for the first time, Sam realized that Dean had been crying. However, he chose not to say anything for the time being.

“Doing what.” Dean’s voice was hoarse as he half-glared at his younger brother. He already knew what Sam was talking about, but he wasn’t about to admit that he had a problem.

“This.” Sam said, motioning around the bathroom with his arm, his arched eyebrows expressing his extreme level of concern.

“Every night you’re in here, puking your guts out. As far as I know, you haven’t eaten anything weird, and we haven’t stayed in one place long enough for you to catch something. What the hell is going on with you?” Sam said, tired of tiptoeing around the issue. If it had only lasted a week or two, he could safely say it was just a nasty stomach bug, but an entire month of nightly vomiting? That was something to be concerned about.

Dean’s frown deepened and he turned his head, staring at the wall, avoiding Sam’s gaze. He couldn’t think about it or he’d start throwing up again. He couldn’t think about the dreams.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was soft again, all sense of accusation gone.

Dean continued to try and ignore him. He knew why he was sick. He wasn’t stupid. Even when he was little, dreams had almost always had strange effects on him physically. The whole throwing-up-after-a-dream thing wasn’t new to him, but it had never happened this much and this consistently before, and whereas he would never admit it out loud, he could admit it to himself.

He had a problem; a serious problem.

But it wasn’t like it was his fault. He knew exactly who to pin the blame on.

“Dean?”

Sam’s voice jerked him back to reality, which he really didn’t appreciate. The world tilted slightly, making him dizzy.

“Please talk to me. I’m really worrying over here.” Sam tried not to flinch at the heated look Dean shot him.

“Well stop worrying. Nothing’s wrong.”

Sam’s nostrils flared and so did his temper.

“No, bullshit.” He snapped. Normally he admired Dean’s ability to remain strong for others, but right now was not the time to play Hero.

“You’ve been getting sick every friggin’ night. I'm exhausted and so are you, and we’ve both been hunting long enough to know that exhaustion gets you killed.”

He knew Dean was starting to break. He’d seen it progress. The fire that had always lit up his green eyes was dull; the smiles he flashed were false. He was breaking more now that Sam was actually confronting him.

Dean Winchester made it a point not to cry in front of his little brother, so Sam knew it had to be serious if the older man was starting to tear up.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Dean growled, his hoarse voice sounding hoarser. Sam could have laughed at the cliché answer.

“I wouldn’t understand? Come on, Dean.” Sam received little response from his brother other than his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Sam sighed and ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of something, anything to say. He watched Dean stare at the wall, looking for the entire world to see like the most miserable person on the face of the earth.

“You know Dean…” He started slowly. “If Cas were here, he’d—“

“Don’t talk about him!” Dean suddenly shouted, going a little green in the face. Sam paused, pieces of the puzzle starting to click in his head. Dean had been avoiding the topic of the angel for some time, and now that Sam thought about it, he could have sworn he had heard Dean say Castiel’s name while he was sleeping. Deciding to further test his theory, Sam pushed more.

“Is that what this is about?”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the new wave of nausea that hit him, shaking his head, mentally screaming and begging Sam to stop. He didn’t want to remember; didn’t want to think about him—

“This is about Castiel.”

Hearing the angel’s full name sent him flying over the edge. Dean felt himself gag and he lurched forward. Before anything could happen though, Sam’s hand was on his shoulder, pressing him back against the wall.

“Don’t even think about it.” Sam warned, and Dean actually listened, forcing the acid back down his throat. He had virtually nothing left in his stomach but acid, and the last thing he needed was to tear up his esophagus and have to go to the hospital.

Sam felt helpless. Dean was suffering from an illness that had no cure; heartbreak. Sam was well aware that Dean’s feelings for the angel were less than platonic, even if Dean wouldn’t admit it to Sam or himself.

Both brothers had been devastated when they learned of Castiel’s death and departure from Earth, but it had hit Dean the hardest. He had been closer to Castiel than anyone. Castiel had essentially gained his humanity from being around Dean.

Sam stared at the slumped, broken form of his brother, arguing with himself over the best way to get Dean to talk about what was happening. Deciding that being subtle was not the best option, Sam dove right into it.

“Dean, why does talking about Cas make you so upset?” He asked, careful to keep his tone gentle so he didn’t sound like he was accusing Dean. Regardless of that fact however, Dean refused to respond, curling his arms around his knees and pulling them to his chest. Sam could almost see the walls going up.

“We’re going to talk about this whether you like it or not.” Sam said.

Again, no outward response. Sam was starting to get a little worried at Dean’s lack of response. What if Sam unintentionally sent Dean into some weird kind of emotional shock?

If only Sam could see what was going on _inside_ Dean’s head.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

Dean wanted to rip his brain out and stomp on it. The emotions he was feeling were all too much for him to handle. Anger, despair, helplessness, fear; all emotions that he never dealt with very well. Castiel… Castiel had always been the one to put him back in his place.

He squeezed his legs tighter.

Castiel died protecting him. They all knew it had to happen sometime but it still hurt. It hurt bad. Dean knew in his heart what he really felt for the angel, but his mind and gut screamed at him to ignore it. He shouldn’t have feelings like that about an angel, not to mention a _male_ angel. Now that’s not to say that Dean hadn’t experimented with men before, because he had; not much, but he had done it.

The worst part of all this wasn’t even the fact that Dean had feelings for Castiel. The worst part was that he was too afraid to admit it.

“Alright that’s it, come on.” Dean felt Sam’s arm wrap around his waist and hoist him up. His stomach rolled dangerously and he slumped back against the wall.

“I can’t.” He said hoarsely. He heard Sam’s aggravated exhale so he was prepared when Sam tried to pull him up again. He shoved Sam away, finally raising his eyes to glare, feeling some fire seep back into his veins.

“I said I can’t Sam now leave me alone!”

“No I’m _not_ gonna leave you alone!” Sam shouted, throwing his hands up.

“I’m done with this whole ‘I’m feeling sorry for myself’ sob fest, Dean. I know how you really feel about Cas.” Sam’s words hit Dean square in the chest. He gaped as Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit Dean often made fun of him for.

“You are so dense sometimes.” Sam said, softer. He looked at Dean with a mix of sadness and pity in his eyes. Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Cas died protecting you. You think he did that just because it was his duty? NO don’t speak. It’s my turn because I am sick of you living your life like this.”

Dean shut his mouth, curious as to what Sam meant by that; ‘living his life like this’.

“You think that you’re protecting yourself by hiding your feelings, but you’re not. You’re just hurting yourself. When I was still upset about Jess, you wouldn’t let me wallow in my grief. You bugged me and bugged me about it until I finally told you. Didn’t you?” Sam said, feeling a little smug when Dean reluctantly nodded.

“If I’m not allowed to feel sorry for myself, then neither are you, now get up.”

With that he strode out of the room and Dean could hear him going through the bags.

Deciding that he had no other choice, and also feeling a bit curious, Dean slowly stood, breathing through his nose when the world spun slightly. When it passed, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, shaking off the sickness still sitting in the pit of his stomach.

“Where are we going?” He asked as he came out, going to grab some clothes. Sam was looking through John’s Journal at the small table.

“We’re going to summon an angel.”

o-o-o-o-o

Needless to say it took another round of fighting and Dean sitting and putting his head between his knees to finally convince Dean to leave the motel room. Sam refused to let Dean drive, which started another round of arguments until Sam pointed out to Dean that not only was he emotionally unstable, but he also had no idea where they were going.

With an angry huff, Dean slumped down in the passenger’s seat, a dark look covering his face. Leave it to Dean to take a good thing and make it seem like a bad thing. Sam shook his head and started the Impala.

“Sam, even if we find this summoning site, Cas said…” Dean’s voice wavered when he said the angel’s name, so he swallowed and tried again.

“Cas said he could never come back here, so why bother trying?”

Sam again held back a laugh that he so desperately wanted to let escape.

“Dean did you ever think about why he said that? About whether he said it for a reason or not?”

He was met with silence from the seat beside him. Taking that as a moderately good sign, Sam focused on driving.

45 minutes later, Sam pulled into a dirt pull off on the side of the back country road. Dean, who had been dozing, sat up and looked around.

In front of them was a huge field with a graveyard covering the front half of it, which was very typical of a summoning site. The grave stones were all covered with dirt and grime from years of neglect. The grass was mostly brown with only a few spots of green. Although most of the graves were standard size, in the middle of the entire area was a huge memorial grave. It must have stood at least 7 feet tall, not including the angelic figure on the top.

Dean could have choked Sam for bringing him here. His breath came in rapid breaths, which normally would have been easy to hide if it were not for the fact that it was cold enough to see his breath. He cursed and slammed the car door shut, shoving his hands irritably into his pockets. Sam hid his smirk as he closed his door.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Dean growled before walking past Sam and through the rusty cast-iron gate. Sam chuckled. As often as Dean put on the tough guy routine, he still had his issues.

Dean stalked through the graveyard, doing his best to look irritated, even if that wasn’t what he was really feeling. He felt excited and anxious all at the same time. He wanted to see Castiel so badly but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up. Cas _did_ say that he couldn’t come back… but Sam had a point.

He never really said why he couldn’t return. He just said he couldn’t. The more Dean thought about it, the less sense it made to him, the more suspicious he became.

He came to a stop in front of the memorial grave marker, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He almost didn’t notice when Sam came up beside him, watching him carefully. Sam was silent as he pulled a small book from inside his jacket. Dean glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that it was a Wiccan Shadow Book.

“What’s that for?” He asked, a little confused. They hardly ever resorted to using witchcraft and Pagan and Wiccan rituals to help them out. It was dangerous; most of the time they just stuck to using their Dad’s journal.

Sam continued to turn the pages, his eyes moving as he read.

“I’m looking for the right summoning spell, but so far all I can find is a simple image summons.” He looked at Dean who arched an eyebrow at him.

“It means that all it will do is show us an image. The angel won’t manifest physically. There’s got to be a stronger spell for it.”

He continued searching, trying Dean’s patience.

“Why can’t we just call him like we always do?” Dean mumbled. Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“If he’s busy in Heaven, do you think he’ll hear you?”

“Yes.”

Sam paused, looking up from the book to see an intense expression on Dean’s face.

“He’d come if I called him.” Dean said, softer but no less intense. Sam slowly closed the Shadow Book, the gears in his head turning. If his theory was correct, and Castiel left Earth to keep himself from getting any closer to Dean, then Castiel wouldn’t be able to resist if Dean himself called upon him.

Either way it was worth a shot. From what Sam could see, nothing in the Shadow Book was going to help them at this point.

“Alright so, call him.” Sam said. When Dean slowly turned and gave him a wide eyed, somewhat irritated look, Sam simply raised his eyebrows, knowing full well that Dean would take it as a challenge.

He was right again.

“What, you don’t think he’ll come?” Dean said, offense seeping into his voice. Sam shrugged.

“I never said that.” Sam said innocently. He knew how to push Dean’s buttons. He could only hope that he pushed the right ones. Dean snorted and turned his gaze back to the memorial in front of him.

The figure sitting atop the grave was an angel; ironic if you thought about it. It was standing upright, with its wings folded on its back. Its hands hung at its sides in loose fists and its feet were shoulder width apart. The angel looked very much like it belonged in the military. Dean hated irony.

With a heavy sigh and another glance at Sam, Dean looked into the cloudless night sky; an unnecessary action, but one that made him feel less awkward. Also, it kept him from having to look at Sam.

For a second, he imagined what Castiel was doing up there. Was he attending to prayer requests? Was he lying around with the rest of the angels? Did he ever think about him and Sam?

Well, no time like the present. Dean took a deep breath before speaking.

“Cas… if you’re up there… give us a sign or something.” He was met with silence.

“C’mon Cas I know you can hear me. You don’t have to come down, I just wanna know…” Dean paused to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I just wanna know you’re listening.”

Dean couldn’t stop his voice from cracking slightly and he shut his eyes against unwanted emotions that threatened to surface. Sam felt his heart break for his brother as the silence grew. Dean felt anger entering his system against his will.

“Cas I know you can hear me.” His hands balled into fists at his side.

“So either you talk to me or I swear I’ll find a way to come up there.” His voice was rising in volume and he did little to stop it.

“If you won’t answer me then by God I’ll stand here all night until you do!” He yelled. Sam watched helplessly.

“CASTIEL!! ANSWER ME!!!” Dean screamed to the Heavens.

There was a hollow thud, like a door was being opened, and the brothers had to shield their eyes against the beam of light that appeared. It covered the entire memorial, zeroing in on the figure on the top. Dean squinted through the light and watched in awe as the figure slowly blinked. The stone cracked and crumbled as it moved. Its head tilted back as its wings flared, straightening out completely until they pointed into the sky.

The light got brighter; so bright that Dean had no choice but to close his eyes. A familiar exploding sound was heard and the brothers opened their eyes, gaping at what they saw.

Standing where the figure should have been was Castiel himself, wings and all. It was a little surprising to see him still in Jimmy Novak’s body, but it was a relief to see a familiar face.

Dean felt a strange sense of awe as he really looked at Castiel. His wings were enormous. In fact, if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say they had gotten bigger since the first time he had seen them. They were a jet black color with an almost invisible blue sheen. The feathers looked extremely soft and for a moment, Dean imagined what it would be like to run his fingers through them. How would Castiel react?

His thoughts were pushed to the back of mind immediately. He didn’t need to be thinking about that right now. All of his attention was on Castiel. The angel’s lips were parted, his eyes closed as he took his first breath. His chest swelled and vapor poured from his mouth when he exhaled. Almost lazily his eyes opened, a confused expression finding its way to his face.

Castiel was indeed confused. He was on Earth. Why? He wasn’t supposed to be here. He hadn’t even realized that he was being summoned before it was too late. He looked around. From the looks of it, he was in a graveyard somewhere in the northern United States. Question was who summoned him?

After looking around for a moment, Castiel realized that he was standing on a memorial gravestone. That prompted him to look down. He immediately wished he hadn’t. Standing in front of him were the Winchester brothers; Sam and Dean. Both men seemed to be as in shock as he was so he took the initiative and spoke first.

“Why am I here?”

Dean felt the goose bumps crawl up his arms. Castiel’s voice was as gruff as ever, if not gruffer. It was somehow comforting to hear. The comfort faded quickly however when Dean really saw how Castiel was looking at him; a mix between anger and confusion, and maybe a little apprehension. His wings had dropped and were now puffed out around him, very clearly showing his agitation.

“Why did you summon me?” Castiel asked, looking at Sam now. The younger Winchester looked uneasy. He glanced at Dean, not quite sure of how to answer. Dean didn’t know what to say either. Castiel’s irritation grew.

“I told you that I would not be allowed back here.”

That seemed to snap the brothers out of their stupor. Dean assumed a defensive stance, one Castiel was very familiar with; shoulders squared, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, eyebrow perfectly cocked on his forehead. Castiel almost smiled. Almost.

“You could have bothered to tell us why.” Sam said, keeping his voice level. Dean continued to glare at the angel, not sure of what he should be feeling at the moment. He remembered too late that Castiel would probably sense everything that was spinning in his head. His guess was validated when Castiel’s gaze snapped to him, dark blue eyes blazing.

“You called me, didn’t you Dean.” The accusation was apparent in his voice and that was more than enough to send Dean sky-diving off the handle.

“YES I called you, so what? Big friggin’ deal. Maybe I just wanted to know how you were doing. God forbid I actually CARE.”

“HE DID.” Castiel’s voice boomed, shutting Dean down once more. A very uncomfortable silence ensued. The Winchesters stared at the angel, who in turn stared completely at Dean, his whole frame rigid. He hadn’t meant to let that slip, but now that he had said it, he had no choice but to explain himself. He opened his wings and floated down off the memorial to stand in front of the brothers. He didn’t bother to stop the feathery appendages from twitching in agitation.

“You want to know why I couldn’t come back? Why I shouldn’t be here? My Father said I cared too much. For you.” He said. Sam and Dean exchanged a look as Castiel continued.

“I’m not supposed to feel… but I do…” His gaze remained completely on Dean and Sam suddenly felt the need to leave, get away from the mounting tension.

“I’m not supposed to be able to care… but I do.” His voice was softer now, but the anger and frustration was still apparent.

“I don’t understand it either; I’m as lost as you are, but my Father said that I can’t do my job right if I’m busy worrying about you. So He has forbidden me to return to Earth. I must do as He asks.”

Dean’s glare darkened and he shook his head.

“That’s bullshit, Cas.”

The nickname paired with the gravely tone of Dean’s voice made Castiel’s wings flutter, not enough to be noticeable to Dean but just enough for Sam to catch.

Dean stepped forward a step, bringing himself into Castiel’s personal space. The role reversal was moderately humorous but neither man was really paying attention to anything but each other.

“If God really wanted you to stay in Heaven, then he would have kept you from coming down here tonight.”

Dean’s expression hardened and Castiel felt mental walls going up, keeping him from reading the human.

“I could have sat here and screamed until I was hacking up blood, but if God really wanted you to stay up there then he would have blocked me out completely.”

Castiel lifted his chin, trying to keep his temper in check while also keeping his secrets to himself. As badly as he wanted to tell Dean everything, he couldn’t.

“Why did you call me, Dean?” He stonewalled. Dean faltered for a second but quickly caught back up.

“You asked me that already and I told you.” He watched as Castiel’s eyes flashed before the angel tucked his chin once more, staring down the length of his nose at the human.

“Tell me again.”

Sam shifted his weight nervously. He felt like he was intruding on something but he knew if he tried to leave, the illusion would shatter.

The goose bumps returned to Dean’s skin. It never failed to happen when Castiel dropped his voice like that. Stay composed, Winchester…

“I called you because…” His voice failed him. He couldn’t think straight. What the hell was happening? He tried again.

“I called you because I missed you and wanted to see you…” Wow, that totally didn’t sound sappy and weird—

“I’ve missed you as well.”

Oh. Well— Wait. What?

Dean raised his eyebrow higher, not quite comprehending what Castiel had just said. Sam looked a little shocked and maybe a little relieved at the same time.

“You’re wrong in assuming that I stayed away because of some negative emotion.” Castiel explained, secrets shining in his eyes. Sam remained silent, content to watch from the sidelines. Dean needed this.

“My Father was already unhappy with me for developing human emotions, but he became even angrier when an unexpected emotion surfaced in my subconscious.”

As awesome as Castiel was, Dean wished he’d just speak English for Pete’s sake!

“What?” He stupidly replied. Castiel looked like he wanted to roll his eyes but resisted for the time being.

“I started feeling something I shouldn’t have.” Castiel said, his voice seeming strained, as though he were holding something back. He was, of course, but Dean and Sam didn’t need to know. It was better if they didn’t, actually.

Dean was getting more and more frustrated. He thought they had long gotten past the Castiel-is-a-cryptic-bastard-and-doesn’t-know-how-to-get-to-the-point phase. Apparently not. He snorted.

“Yea I got that much, but how about you try just telling me what you mean.”

Castiel’s expression changed, showing conflict. Unintentionally Sam caught little pieces of what the angel was thinking, but he still decided that it was in his best interest to remain quiet; let Dean figure it out on his own.

“I can’t.” His voice was starting to show anger, and Dean knew if Castiel got angry, he’d eventually tell him what he wanted to know. He kept a smile from creeping onto his face.

“Why, because Daddy is gonna put the smack down on you?”

“Because it could put you and Sam in danger.”

“So put me in danger! It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. What was supposed to be a healing encounter was well on its way to becoming a fight.

“I doubt you’d like it if I told you.” Castiel challenged.

“I don’t like a lot of things but I deal with them just fine.” Dean said defensively.

“You didn’t deal with me being gone very well.”

Both Sam and Dean tensed.

“I’ve been watching you, Dean. I know what’s been going on. I’ve seen what the nightmares do to you.” Castiel’s voice was painful to hear. Dean felt the blood draining from his face and his stomach dropping into his shoes. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to try and lie to the angel.

“I’ve wanted nothing more than to end them, but I wasn’t sure if… well if my assistance would be welcomed…” Castiel said hesitantly. He watched Dean carefully for any outward reaction. Dean looked confused and maybe a little hurt.

“Why did you try and hide? Sam was worried about you and you brushed him off.” Castiel continued.

“I don’t know.” Dean mumbled, looking away, sounding defeated. Castiel stared at him for a moment longer before he turned his gaze on Sam.

“Could you give us a minute?” He asked, although it was more of a statement then a request. Sam knew that Castiel could read him, and that he knew that Sam had read him in return. He nodded.

“I’ll wait in the car.” He said. He clasped Dean’s shoulder, squeezing it before turning and walking to the car.

More silence ensued, making Dean uncomfortable. He felt strange without Sam there for some reason. The older Winchester fought the urge to fidget under the angel’s intense stare, an urge he had long since outgrown. Or so he thought.

“What’s going on in your head, Dean?” Castiel said, cocking his head like he always did, picking Dean apart with his eyes. Dean met his stare, choking on his words.

“Talk to me.”

Castiel’s soft words made Dean angry again. He was going to have a concussion from all this slamming back and forth between emotions.

“Oh so now you wanna talk? Forget it, Cas.” Dean snapped, turning to leave… except he found himself face-to-face with a wall of feathers.

Castiel’s left wing was blocking his way.

It curled around him from the side and flared in front of him, not touching him but keeping him in place. He couldn’t help but stare. The feathers looked even softer up close and once again, he found himself wanting to touch them.

Instead, he turned back around slowly, meeting Castiel’s eyes once more. The angel’s expression was full of anger and frustration, but it didn’t seem to be directed at Dean. He took a deep breath before he spoke, his voice still soft.

“I won’t forget it. I can’t. What I saw in your dreams… What caused you to imagine such things?” There was a strange pleading note to his voice that made Dean want to just tell him everything, but he was as stubborn as they came and wouldn’t tell him that easily—

“I don’t know.”

Smooth move, Winchester…

Dean jumped slightly when the wing behind him nudged him forward, bringing him a step closer to the glaring angel.

“Stop lying to me. You’re making my ears burn.” Castiel said dryly. Dean knew he had lost.

“Alright fine.” He shook his head, not believing that he was about to do this.

“I… missed you. Really badly. And I guess my bizarre case of separation anxiety bled into my dreams, making them…” He gestured vaguely with his hands, looking a little helpless. Castiel cocked an eyebrow, making Dean’s stomach do weird things again.

“If you missed me so badly, why did it take you so long to call me?”

“Dammit Cas, do you live to make me feel completely friggin’ awkward?” Dean asked exasperated. Castiel cracked a small smile but said nothing. Dean snorted and, against his better judgment, answered the question.

“I guess I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”

Dark blue eyes bored into his skull and Dean fought the urge to shift around. The wing was still pressed to his back, keeping him from moving.

“Dean, that’s ridiculous.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort but stopped when a smile spread across Castiel’s face. It was the most genuine smile that Dean had ever seen on the angel’s face… and it was beautiful.

“I will always come when you call.”

Dean felt himself being pushed and next thing he knew, he was surrounded by Castiel’s arms, which were in turn surrounded by his wings. Dean was a little shell-shocked because 1) Castiel was HUGGING him and 2) that Castiel’s wings had made a little cocoon around them, hiding them from the outside world. It felt warm in the cold early morning hours.

Hesitantly, he lifted his arms from his sides and wrapped them around Castiel’s waist, noticing then that Castiel had somehow managed to get taller. Dean’s head only reached to his ear now, putting him at eye-level with Castiel’s mouth… his perfect mouth.

“Your thoughts are very loud, Dean.”

Castiel’s gruff voice in his ear startled him, and he groaned. Castiel wasn’t supposed to hear that…

Castiel had his nose buried in Dean’s short hair, his eyes closed. He was completely relaxed. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time. He only seemed to be relaxed when Dean was involved.

Screw his Father. Let him be angry. So what if he loved this human more than what was considered healthy? He felt more at home with Dean in his arms than he did in Heaven, and he could honestly say he was alright with that.

Dean slowly eased back to look at the angel, forgetting to breathe for a second when Castiel’s eyes opened and focused on him. The iridescent blue drew him in and before he knew what he was doing, he was leaning forward, swallowing the nervous lump lodged in his throat.

The kiss was soft at first, cautious. Then Castiel gripped the back of Dean’s neck and tilted his head backwards, bringing the kiss to a whole new level. Dean tightened his grip around the angel’s waist, not quite sure if he could believe what was happening. He was afraid that Castiel would suddenly disappear and that this would end up being a dream too.

But when Castiel pulled away, still smiling and unwrapped his wings from around them, revealing the orange sunrise behind him, Dean knew it was real.

He finally smiled. A few loud honks sounded from behind them and Dean realized that he had all but forgotten about Sam. Castiel looked over his head as he turned, seeing Sam smiling and starting the Impala. Dean turned back to Castiel, who placed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll follow you back.”

He stepped away from Dean and spread his wings slowly, stretching them. Dean and Sam stared. They had never really seen Castiel fly or show off his wings. It was a first. Dean took in every contour of Castiel’s beautiful wings, vowing to run his fingers through them soon.

With one huge downward sweep of his wings, Castiel left the ground and shot into the sky, kicking up dust and dead grass. Dean waved a hand in front of him, looking up into the sky, easily following Castiel’s slow deliberate movements. He was obviously showing off.

With a chuckle, the elder Winchester shoved his hands back into his pockets and headed back to the car, where he knew his nosy impatient brother was waiting to pounce on him and ask a million questions.


End file.
